Certa vez, sem razão nenhuma,
fui na caçamba da picape,
recostada na cabine.
Tudo que me era familiar se afastava
depressa — a montanha,
o motel, a casa de Huldah Currier
e os dois imponentes bordos…
O sr. Perkins organizava um bazar de celeiro,
e carros de Nova Jersey e Ohio
se enfileiravam no acostamento arenoso
da Rodovia 4. Tudo o que eu via
já havia passado…
(Talvez seja assim a vida
no instante em que a deixamos)
Trad.: Nelson Santander
What It’s Like
And once, for no special reason,
I rode in the back of the pickup,
leaning against the cab.
Everything familiar was receding
fast—the mountain,
the motel, Huldah Currier’s
house, and the two stately maples…
Mr. Perkins was having a barn sale,
and cars from New Jersey and Ohio
were parked along the sandy shoulder
of Route 4. Whatever I saw
I had already passed…
(This must be what life is like
at the moment of leaving it.)
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